Too Much Sunshine for One Boy
by OldXernes
Summary: Summer moments that Harry shares with Sirius. AU.


_**Too Much Sunshine for One Boy**_

Pairing: Harry Potter/Sirius Black

Warnings: Slash, obviously. Maybe a little OOC? See notes.

Notes: Some of what Harry and Sirius say is very much out of character. Well, I think so. Some of what the two of them say, I could never imagine in a million years their book-selves saying that. However, that is what fanfiction is all about, is it not? Being new and exciting and different from the book? Because we all know fanon is greater than canon, right?! Right!! Also, I did read some of The Picture of Dorian Gray before writing this, so that probably inspired me a little. :)

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The days pass by without a care. Sunshine illuminates the ground and caresses his skin; it feels like a touch from a familiar someone, like a gentle caress of neediness. He loves the summer. The air is fresh and has a specific odor to it; it smells of green grass and blossoming flowers. He loves the flowers almost as much as he loves the summer. Sometimes, he lays in the flowerbed, thinking. Just thinking. He enjoys the feel of nature against his back and around his face, loves the smell of lilac and lavender. He does not mind if he gets dirt on his clothing. In fact, he wears the earth under his fingernails and matted on his skin proudly. Almost as if he cannot get enough. He knows he never wants to get enough of this great and terrific pleasure that nature is. Oh, how he needs its reassurance. 

He has always been quite taken with nature, much more than any other young lad his age. Nature was calming, and he needed more calming than the average teenager. He loved being outdoors; when his skin burnt red from the heated rays, he smiled faintly. While the sunburn was not pleasing, he enjoyed the time that he spent outside to get it, and the memories of the hot summer air seemed to subside the burning sensation.

He often got in trouble with his godfather when he stayed outside for too long. Sometimes his godfather would spend all day looking for him, and he would be out in the pasture, or by the valley that was only a few paces away. He felt at peace when he was one with the earth. Like he had no care in the world.

He sat on the prickly grass, running his dirty fingers through the blades absentmindedly. He loved the way the grass touched his skin. It was sharp, yet soothing. And the smell, gosh, did he love the smell of the grass; the smell of healthy, watered grass. It was most pleasing to him. He leaned ever so slightly to the left and buried his face into the flower bush and breathed in the calming scent. He could spend all day here, if only his godfather allowed it.

His godfather – that was another thing that he loved, but in a different way. He could not allow himself to grow tired of the company of the leaves and the trees around him, yet sometimes his godfather's presence frustrated him. Whenever he grew angry with his godfather, which was not an often occurrence, he would occupy himself in the garden. However, the thing that his godfather did that nature could never do was be a sort of companion, a real companion, who he could depend on even with the deepest and loneliest pits of his soul. Sometimes it frightened him how much he needed his godfather, but then he was sure that they'd be together forever.

Forever, yes. And as long as they had each other things would all be okay. He rolled over onto his back, laying down on the hard earth, the grass tickling his exposed skin, and he thought of Sirius. How perfect his godfather had been to him lately; he did not let a day pass without thanking him. Something about the man, and something about nature, put him at ease. His godfather, yes. How lucky he was to have his godfather. How lucky he was to have such a perfect man in his life. He could not picture life without him. Surely he would not be able to survive the day without his company, and surely he would not be able to survive without the simple pleasures of the world around him.

He wished that his godfather would leave whatever he busied himself with and enjoy the kindness of the Earth with him. However, he knew that his godfather did not have the patience for it. Why, though, he did not know. He did not know why his godfather would rather be cooped up in their simple home when he could be outside, enjoying this whole different world with him. He knew that when his godfather was a prisoner at Grimmuald Place, all he wanted was out. He was able to be out now, but all he did was stay hidden inside.

"Harry!" a voice called from the porch, and he turned his head slightly. His godfather stood like some sort of god, his body was casually resting against a pillar and his arms were folded across his chest. His hair was as dark as ever, falling perfectly into his icy eyes. His skin bore age lines, but Harry did not think that there was a more beautiful man alive, young or old.

Harry looked expectantly at his godfather, who motioned with one hand for Harry to join him on the front porch. He moved, but not in the way his godfather had wanted, oh no. He would not give in that easy. He brought his hand down to the wild grass and patted it three times, a smile passed over his young face. "Please join me, Sirius. You never do, and the day is too beautiful to spend it all inside."

Sirius' arms remained folded across his chest, and his face grew slightly ugly. Harry wished he wouldn't. "The air is too hot and my allergies are acting up. I've told you that before, Harry," he said stubbornly. Really, his allergies were not acting up at all, because he didn't even have any allergies for them to act up. However, something about being outside made his mind go numb and hazy, and he wasn't quite sure if he wanted his mind to act like that around his godson.

"Your 'allergies' do not exist, Sirius," he called back across the lawn, equally stubborn, and deep down Sirius knew that he would never win when it came to his godson. "Please join me. Or is it that you do not want to spend time with me? I thought that you wanted me to live with you," he said, allowing his scarlet lips to pout ever so slightly, knowing it would break every barrier that his godfather was trying to hold against him. He knew his godfather's weaknesses all too well.

Sirius gave in. He knew that he would eventually, as long as Harry pulled the right card. He unfolded his arms, balled his hands into fists, and shoved them into his trouser pockets as he stalked like a man walking to his well-dreaded trial out to where Harry sat on the hot ground. He stood before his godson, looking down at his casually relaxed frame, and sat awkwardly by his side.

"Why so tense?" Harry asked him suddenly, placing his hand lightly on his godfather's shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze.

"I do not like being outside, you know that," he said roughly, whipping his forehead even though no sheen of sweat had collected there. He must admit, against his better judgments, that today was a rather glorious day. The temperature was just right, and the sun shone just in the right place that they were neither in bright light nor in dark shade. The birds chirruped playfully in the distance, and when he looked over to the flower bush, he saw two butterflies happily flying over the colorful petals. "And the only reason why I am here is because I know that you will beg me all day to join you if I had not already."

"I do not see what is so wrong with being outside," Harry said flatly, yanking a daisy out from the ground and holding it delicately in between two of his fingers. "It is calming to just sit here and let my mind wander."

Sirius sighed. Sometimes he had no idea what his godson was talking about. Those were the times when he decided that Harry spent too much time alone to himself and not enough time with his friends – with him. "I suppose I do not like being outside because you have taken such a liking to it."

"And why is that?" he asked curiously, his eyes still attached to the small daisy as he fingered it hesitantly, touching the soft petals.

"Well, I suppose that being out here where I can be free makes me feel a little anxious," he started, staring at his godson. He wished that he wasn't so purely innocent. "I am not used to being a free man. And you, also, make me a bit anxious as well. So, that does not help my nerves at all. I am not quite sure how to act around you sometimes, Harry."

Harry allowed the daisy to fall free from his hand before he turned to look at his godfather. "Now, that is just silly. You can be yourself around me, Sirius. It is not like I am some sort of stranger to you," he said, moving his hand to lightly place itself on top of his godfather's. His skin was so warm. He closed his eyes at the touch before he opened them sharply. He must have looked quite foolish. Harry cheeks flushed slightly, but he did not think to move his hand away.

"Harry," he began, his throat was dry and his words hoarse. He wanted his godson to stop, _he_ wanted to stop, but he knew that trying to stop would be to no avail. It was only a matter of time before this happened; he was only bidding it. They had lived together for a few months now, and he knew the first night that Harry had stayed with him that this was bound to happen. He knew it when Harry crept into his room like a child, complained about how he was not used to the house and could not fall asleep, and how he, Sirius, allowed his bed to be shared.

He tried to kick himself – to blame himself for letting it happen, but that didn't even work. All he could do was move his hand so that he was holding Harry's, noticing how perfectly his godson's hand fit to his own. It was as if they were modeled from each other's curves and crevices. He wondered if other parts of their bodies matched so delightfully, but then thought to himself that they must. They had to.

"Sirius," his godson called to him in a weak voice, moving his face ever closer to Sirius' own. He could count every eyelash that Harry possessed, every dark freckle, as there were only a few, and every line of perfect uncertainty that Harry could not possibly hide from him.

He brought his rough hand up to his godson's smooth cheek and cupped it, noticing that Harry quivered slightly against his touch, but did not faultier. His godson allowed his bright green eyes to shut closed in expectancy, and Sirius could not deny him of what he wanted. He closed the space that kept them separated at once, his chapped lips meeting Harry's soft ones in a hesitant almost-kiss. He was not sure if he could call it a kiss, surely their lips were touching, but neither of them knew what to do after that. While Sirius has kissed many men and women alike in his time, with Harry he felt like an awkward schoolboy. Oh, how embarrassed he was with himself.

His mind went numb, just as he thought it would, until he felt Harry's mouth part slightly against his own, and immediately he took advantage of the newly surrendered grounds. He kissed Harry passionately, like one should never kiss his godson, but then he was trying to place a different face onto Harry's body, which was not quite successful. Despite the fact that Harry was his godson, Sirius still wanted him all along.

Harry kissed back with surprising expertise, and it was exquisite to feel Harry's smooth tongue against his own. He brought his other hand up to grab at the back of his godson's neck as he moved the other to rest against his chest, pushing him to lie on his back with slight pressure. When Harry stopped slowly falling backwards, Sirius straddled Harry's lithe hips, all the while still kissing him like no other he had kissed before. Harry could not get enough of the nature around him, but Sirius, Sirius could not get enough of his godson below.

Harry moaned into his mouth and Sirius pulled away, latching instead onto the exposed skin of Harry's neck as he tried to work off the boy's grass-stained jeans. As soon as he yanked the zipper down, he dipped his hand inside of Harry's pants and pressed against his hardening young cock, which had earned him a moan of approval from his godson. He figured that he would only allow himself to go so far, his godson was still so much younger than he was old, and probably was not in his right state of mind. He got too much sunlight.

Sirius managed to slide his hand past the tight waistband of Harry's underpants to pull his cock free. He wanted so desperately to look at his godson's arousal, how hard and leaking he was just from his kiss and touch, but he figured that perhaps that was for a different day. He focused just on feeling, just on touching, and just on Harry as he curled his fingers around Harry's cock and jerked slowly, which caused Harry to groan and buckle. Oh, what it was to be young again.

As Sirius sucked and licked at Harry's tense neck, his hand pumped his hard cock until he cried out and arched his back, spilling his seed into his godfather's still motioning hand until he fell back onto the grass, his eyes closed and a lingering smiling passing over his red swollen lips. Sirius risked a glance at Harry's spent cock, how beautiful his smooth, half-hard boyhood looked, and he felt his stomach lurch as his pants grew tighter. Sirius brought his fingers up to his mouth and with his cat-like tongue, he licked Harry's spunk away, the taste of salt invading his hot mouth.

The thick summer breeze blew, warm and weak, onto Harry's body like a soft blanket of air as Sirius pulled him close.

_-fin_


End file.
